Twisted Misery
by ErrorxOperator
Summary: Life for Christine is lonely. Then, things happen. Changes in the air. Changes in her life. And a change in the way she views the darkness. Modern. EC MAYBE. Leroux ish.
1. In Darkness

Okay, so I've been wanting to attempt to write a Phantom fiction forever. Haven't gotten around to it until now. Please don't explode on me because I know this isn't that great. But here:

Disclaimer: As the cursed heavens above would have it...I don't own any of these characters, 'cept for the ones never mentioned in the book/movie.

* * *

The night air was cold. Although it was expected, since of course, it was November, the weather still came as a surprise to some.

The lonely back-streets of New York were something to be avoided, since no good could possibly come from such a dark, and deadly place. It was only a shame that this notice went by a young woman, clad in a long trench coat, a pair of faded jeans, and bright red ballet flats. She had just been dismissed from work, and tired hardly covered the way she felt.

A sudden noise startled her, as she began her descend into the black alley.

"Hello...?" Her frail voice called out into the subconscious.

"Hey there darlin'. Wanna come over here and gimme some loving'?" A disgustingly filthy man appeared before her, and she winced as his stale breath seeped through the spaces where teeth should have been.

She violently shook her head no, and quickly stepped past him, clutching her yellow bag tightly. The young girl could feel her adrenaline rushing through her veins, not bothering to settle down even after the man was a few feet behind her. Although she knew him to be far away---she heard his grumbling protest die the faster she walked---she could still hear the sound of someone or _something _making itself known.

Picking up the pace as much more as she possibly could, her impeccably crystal clear blue eyes searched desperately for an escape. But none, as far as she could see, was even close to being visible. The only source of light she saw, from that terribly dark alley, was a flickering streetlamp that obviously offered no means of the slightest hint of protection.

The faster she walked, the more she could hear the sound of footsteps thundering after her. Nothing offered the slightest bit of safety. The dank walls on either side of the alley offered more fright then it did a haven. And so, she continued, not bothering to look back. That is, until she ungracefully stumbled over her own feet---something that should have easily been avoided---and landed hard on the soaked asphalt.

"Damn it!" She muttered, catching her fall on her scraped hands. The moment those two simple words escaped her lips, she froze in fear.

As slowly as she could, she turned her head to look behind her.

Nothing.

Nothing but the heavy cloud of darkness. She couldn't see much, save for the small amount of light emanating from the untrustworthy street light. Her breathing quickened, as she still felt uneasy. It took a lot more strength to stand then she expected.

Dusting off her coat and jeans, she grabbed her bag from the sodden and soiled ground, and kept walking, unaware of the glowing eyes staring after her.

* * *

The strange evening in the alleyway was soon forgotten as Christine got on with her life.

Days would go by with the same unusual slowness. Sometimes she would find herself staring out of her wide windows, in hopes of some form of absolution rising in the distance. She hadn't been so empty, so hollow, until after...

She pushed it away.

"Good morning sir. My name is Christine, is there anything you would like to start off with?" Her voice, attempting to be cheery, sounded more pained then she could have heard herself.

The man, older looking, stared at her with confusion.

_How would anyone so lovely as her be working in such a low paying diner? _The man with ebony skin wondered.

He shook his head, and gave her his order;

"I'd like a simple cup of tea please. With a small side of biscuits."

Christine quickly wrote down her order on the little notepad, took the _Macy's Diner _menu, and headed off towards the kitchen. On her way, she quickly glanced back at the man, and found him staring out of the window. It was quite a strange contrast with the rest of the diner. The bright red booth seemed dull compared to his skin color, and the small neon sign above his head looked almost stupid. His dark hands were resting on the table, fingers intersecting with each other. He was a little chubby, but his short stature exceeded the clothing he wore. Dark greens and gold's were used in his wardrobe, and she wondered if he were wealthy.

Sighing, she turned her head away, and headed into the fluorescent light of the kitchen.

"Order up!" She shouted, placing the small paper onto a sliver counter.

"How are you today, Christine?" Mrs. Morris, the owner, and only cook, asked.

She shrugged. "Eh. I'm taking it day by day..."

Mrs. Morris was an older woman, perhaps in her mid-forties. She had dark skin, and usually wore her hair in long braids that were pulled back into a makeshift pony tail. Sometimes Christine felt that Mrs. Morris was the only parental figure in her life seeing as though both her parents were long forgotten.

Mrs. Morris nodded in agreement.

"Yes honey, I understand. By the way, how's college working out for you?"

Christine was currently attending New York University, but as of late, her grades were slipping, due to the lack of interest in her school life, and lack of anything colorful. Even though she didn't say anything about the subject, Mrs. Morris could tell that Christine was slowly dying inside if not because of her parents.

"It's okay...I just have a hard time concentrating on my grades...Lately I haven't really found the time to sit and study."

"Christine, if you ever need time off then please, let me know. Your mother and father wouldn't want you failing and neither do I." She gave a small smile and walked past the sickly thin girl.

Christine noted that she always smelled like jasmine.

"Well, here's the man's tea. Oh, and biscuits." She handed Christine a small cup with a saucer under it, and a little tray of homemade biscuits. When she exited the kitchen, she noticed how unnatural the light in the diner seemed to be.

Too bright...Too expressive...She would have to talk to someone about turning those fluorescent bulbs down.

"Here you are, sir." She placed the tea and biscuits in front of the ebony man, who was still looking outside of the dreary window.

He whipped his head around, and stared at her with such intensity, she felt her knees go weak.

After a long minute passed, he stirred his tea with the spoon that was wrapped up in a little red napkin.

"Christine..." He spoke so softly she had to strain to hear him. "Are you happy?" He asked.

She was a bit startled by his question. A stranger, out of nowhere, asked her a question that inquired into her happiness...

_Strange..._

"I-I suppose I am then, yes..." She whispered.

He nodded, obviously the answer didn't seem to sit well with him. Another thing that frightened her, was how he knew her name. That is until she looked down at her white and red uniform and saw her name plate that read _Christine D._

She turned away to leave, but he murmured something under his breath.

She thought it was something along the lines of: "Call me Nadir.", But she couldn't be sure. Instead of asking, she simply turned back into the kitchen, and waited for the man to finish with his tea.

* * *

A/N: My Christine is going to be different. I'm not making her the typical scared-of-everything-including-Erik. So...please don't give me flames? And I'll try to make Erik as demented as possible: 


	2. Worry

It was late Thursday evening when she got the phone call.

Christine was sitting in her apartment---one she could hardly afford--- looking at her newest deadline for her photography class, when her phone rang. Begrudgingly, she got up from her warm sofa and trotted to her bedroom where the cordless was.

"Hello?"

"...Christine?" A familiar voice shot through the silenced line.

She knew that voice. She knew who belonged to that voice. Oh, to count the months for when she longed for that voice. Sweet adolescence was something to be marveled at, and yet she wished for the hours in which she could sit with that voice.

Invisible tears began their formation.

"W-w-who is this?" She had to be sure.

"Christine, you don't remember me?"

_Oh yes, yes I do Raoul. Oh, for so long I've waited to see you..._

"Who is this?" She asked again, this time with a little more force.

A deep breath was heard on the other side.

Silence.

"Hello?" She offered. Did he hang up? Did he hate her for not knowing who it was? She couldn't be sure.

"Christine, it's me...Raoul Cheney."

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heartbeat seemed to quicken. All time stood still right then and there. Christine knew who it was. She shouldn't have been so surprised, but to know it really was him, to know it was really Raoul there on the other line was overwhelming. She missed him terribly, especially when her parents passed away. She took a deep breath herself, and tried to calm her nerves.

"Oh Raoul..." She whispered into the receiver.

Christine sat down on her bed, one hand on her forehead because she was so relieved and yet confused at the same time.

"Christine, I've missed you so much." He replied.

Again, an awkward silence settled down between the both of them.

She was taken back to the memories when they were younger. When everything seemed possible and there was no darkness in her life. She remembered the way they innocently held each other on the beach back in Virginia, and the way he would play with her hair. The way Raoul would give her flowers for no reason. When they had picnics together, when they read books together, and when they played music together...

Until that fateful day, when she was forced to move, far away from him.

It hurt her badly. The adolescent friend she was forced to leave behind...The way he looked when they exchanged final goodbyes...

That time was over. Here she was, on the phone with him again. Everything would go back to the way it was before she had to leave. At least, she hoped it would.

"My goodness Raoul, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you again. I've missed you terribly all these years..."

She heard a sigh of relief on the other end. Seems as though they were both hoping the other would whisper words that were left unspoken so many years ago. No words could possibly describe the amount of happiness coursing through her.

"Christine, Christine! I have great news." He chimed in overly excited about something.

Her brows knitted together.

"Um, what's the good news?" For some odd reason, the sound of him being so cheerful made her feel sick. A gripping wave of nausea swept through her, and she tried not to retch on the floor.

"I'm coming to town to see you."

Her mouth fell open, and she quickly forgot about her strange illness. It wasn't possible. There was no way that Raoul would be coming up to New York to see her. She wasn't anyone special. Over the years, she lost her profound beauty, and a dullness began to take its place.

"Oh...Wow." Was all she could muster.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable about her reaction. "Well, are you not happy then? I could easily cancel my flight...If that's what you want..."

She violently shook her head. "No, no! It just...caught me off guard is all." She forced a smile.

"Well then excellent! Aside from the _wonderful _news," he emphasized wonderful, because he'd been a tad skeptical, "How have you been lately?"

_Wrong question, Raoul. _Christine thought absently. She couldn't tell him of how the days all blended together, and how each night she would practically cry herself to sleep because she knew she was always on the verge of something else. Instead, she settled for a few details, and tried to sound as cheerful as possible.

She launched into a discussion about her college---even though she mostly lied---she claimed she enjoyed it, and New York was positively amazing. She also mentioned that she preferred to live off-campus (This worried Raoul a bit) and how her job at the tiny diner was simple, yet enjoyable. She also proclaimed herself to be a decent photographer, because since a tender age, she had a slight fascination with capturing, what looked like, life's most miniscule moments.

"So, Raoul, how have you been doing?"

She heard him hesitate.

"Um...Well, actually. Phillip just invested his money into a new stock market, and he's made plenty of money off of that..."

There was obviously something that he wasn't telling her.

"Raoul, are you alright? You seem a little...Worried?"

"What? Oh, I'm fine. Just a minor distraction is all." He attempted to give a short, small laugh, but it came out choked more then it did clear.

Christine wasn't buying it. For whatever reason, she could tell something was deeply bothering him more then it should. She wanted to know. But Raoul made it quite apparent that he wasn't going to clue her in on what was going on. Maybe she should try again? But what if that upset him even more? What if her persistence drove him away, and he wouldn't come to visit after all? She couldn't risk that...Her life here in her tiny apartment was far too lonely for lack of company.

"Raoul, please tell me what's going on..."

"Christine, I'm watching the news, and there have been a series of murders all around your area." It came out too quick, and she could hear the unease in his voice. In a way, it was a comfort to know that he truly cared about her, even after all these years. But what quickly wiped away the comfort was the fact that she knew there _was _a series of gruesome homicides.

"Oh...well...I know." She only hoped he wouldn't react too horribly.

"You know! Christine, why can't you get yourself out of that...that horrible neighborhood?"

"Raoul, I can hardly afford anything else!" She really didn't' want to have this conversation with him right now. It made her uncomfortable to talk about her lack of money.

"Hardly afford anything," he was shouting now, "Christine, what about the money you _should _have inherited after your parents were killed?"

_Raoul, not now...I won't discuss this now!_

"Raoul, don't bring that up. Please...not right now." She could feel the tears flowing down her face. She hardly noticed them until she felt the receiver grow wet.

He gave another heavy sigh. "Christine, I'm going to be arriving on Saturday. Alright? Today is Thursday, so do you think you could take care of yourself until then?"

She nodded numbly. "Yes, I can."

"Okay. I'll call you again soon."

There was something she needed to know;

"Oh wait, Raoul?"

"Yes?" He replied, a hint of irritation seeped through his words.

"Erm...How did you find my number?"

He chuckled, a light and air laugh.

"Dear, you're not that hard to find."

Christine nodded, a little disturbed, and quickly hung up the phone. She glanced at her alarm clock. The numbers read 10:17. She needed to get to bed quickly, or else she wouldn't have any energy in class tomorrow.

After she was done changing into a simple pair of shorts and a blue tank-top, she settled herself down in her comforter, and stared at the ceiling. Something that Raoul said on the phone was a bit unnerving. The murders, she had gotten use to, but what if something bad _did _happen to her? The grotesque thought left her shaken, and she tried to replace her thoughts with the fact that her adolescent friend was coming to see her. For some reason, she didn't feel too excited anymore. She still had questions, as to why the sudden take in her life, but she decided to wait.

Shrugging underneath the covers, she closed her eyes, and let the unconscious take control.

* * *

A/N: This story isn't that great. Sorry, but I'm trying. Next update won't come until a little later, due to the fact that I'm working on my homecoming dress! 

Evalyn M. Wright.

-P.S. Thank you to my reviewers. I'll respond as soon as possible.


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